


There's blood between us, love my love

by Dissenter



Series: The four corners of the world [2]
Category: A Fisherman of the Inland Sea - Ursula K. Le Guin (Short Story), Daredevil (TV), The Birthday of the World and Other Stories - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M, Polyamory, Sedoretu, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:50:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4201560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissenter/pseuds/Dissenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes four people to make a marriage. They were one short when it all fell apart. The sequel/spin off of In calm or stormy weather, focusing on Fisk, Vanessa, and Wesley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of hope that was, of guilt that was (Fisk)

**Author's Note:**

> Note for readers unfamiliar with the planet O:  
> Ki'O society is divided into two halves or moieties, called (for ancient religious reasons) the Morning and the Evening. You belong to your mother's moiety, and you can't have sex with anybody of your moiety.  
> Marriage on O is a foursome, the sedoretu — a man and a woman from the Morning moiety and a man and a woman from the Evening moiety. You're expected to have sex with both your spouses of the other moiety, and not to have sex with your spouse of your own moiety. So each sedoretu has two expected heterosexual relationships, two expected homosexual relationships, and two forbidden heterosexual relationships.  
> The expected relationships within each sedoretu are:  
> The Morning woman and the Evening man (the "Morning marriage")  
> The Evening woman and the Morning man (the "Evening marriage")  
> The Morning woman and the Evening woman (the "Day marriage")  
> The Morning man and the Evening man (the "Night marriage")  
> The forbidden relationships are between the Morning woman and the Morning man, and between the Evening woman and the Evening man, and they aren't called anything, except sacrilege.  
> It's just as complicated as it sounds, but aren't most marriages?[
> 
> Wilson is Evening  
> Wesley and Vanessa are morning

Wilson Fisk came from a broken home. Not broken in the traditional sense, there had been no divorce, as far as he was aware there had never been a morning marriage to balance out his parent’s evening, but still it was broken. He thinks that maybe it wouldn’t have gone as bad as it did if there’d been a full sedoretu. His father was a mad dog, dangerous to his evening wife, and dangerous to his child, but if there’d been a morning sister to call him out, to challenge him, if there’d been an evening husband with the strength to defy him where the evening woman alone dared not. If there’d been three against one to keep him in line, maybe things wouldn’t have played out like they did.

Half a marriage is a fragile, risky thing, Fisk has always known that, the truth of it sinking in with his father’s blood on his hands, and if that half is the night marriage alone then even more so. If there had been no child, if he hadn’t been there, then Fisk knows his father would have killed his mother long since, and he is under no delusions that he is any more stable than his father was. So he treats Wesley as an assistant, as a friend, but never a lover. He will not make the mistake his parents made, if he marries Wesley he will do it properly, with all the checks and balances and stability inherent in a full Sedoretu.

He wants to. Wesley is perfect, in ways that Wilson never will be. He is calm and collected, always, he knows what Wilson needs even before Wilson himself does, he is efficient and reliable and Wilson trusts him in ways that he has never trusted anyone. He knows Wesley feels the same way about him, you don’t do the things Wesley does for him if you don’t care, but still he was slightly surprised when Wesley confronted him about it. Asked him why he held back, why he wouldn't admit that he cared. James wasn't usually so forward, and Wilson hadn’t been expecting it, so he answered him honestly instead of brushing him aside.

“A long time ago I… swore that I would never half marry. It’s too… unstable, things go wrong and there’s no way to fix them. I care about you Wesley, if I were ever to marry you I would want to do it properly. Four not two.” Wesley had looked startled, as though it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. It was a moment before he spoke and when he did it was pure Wesley. Sensible, and practical, with a way of cutting through the problems to find the most elegant solution.

“Well in that case, we’d better find some women then.”

Despite the fact that it was Wesley who had first suggested finding women to complete their Sedoretu, it was Wilson who actually found someone first. He didn’t know why, but there was just something about her that drew her to him.

Vanessa was probably fifteen kinds of a bad idea, she was an honest citizen for starters. It was impossible to know how she’d react when she found out what he and Wesley really did, and she would find out. You couldn’t found a marriage on a lie that big, not without things going very badly wrong. She was fifteen kinds of a bad idea, but she was also beautiful, and intelligent, and charming, and somehow before he even knew what was happening, he found himself telling her things about himself, things that he’d never even told Wesley. She listened, and she sympathised, and she did not judge, and he knew. This was one of the women he was going to marry, this was his morning wife. And then she found out and honestly her reaction was far better than he ever could have hoped. She was brilliant, and beautiful, and determined, and she knew what he was, and still she chose him, and he couldn't believe he was so lucky.

Her and Wesley’s introductions went well. He’d been dropping hints from the first night, telling her about his assistant, telling her that the wine she liked had been chosen by him, telling her how loyal and supportive he was. He’d been desperate for them to get along. As soon as they met he knew he needn’t have worried. James and Vanessa had connected like moiety siblings that had known each other all their lives. Wilson had never been so happy to have people conspiring against him, he wasn’t sure what the two of them were planning, but the way it made both of them smirk, made him sure that things could work out with the three of them.

All they had to do now was find an evening wife. It was easier said than done but they had time. They were young, and had the world at their feet, and their Sedoretu was three quarters built. They would find someone.

It all went wrong so quickly. One moment they were top of the world and the next Vanessa was in the hospital, and James was dead, after that it was so, so easy to fall. Before they knew it, Wilson was in jail, and Vanessa was in exile, and James was in the cold hard ground, and all of their hopes had come to ashes. Ashes and blood. Maybe even a full marriage couldn’t have saved them, but Wilson couldn’t help but wonder. If there had been an evening wife would someone have been paying closer attention to where James went, maybe one of them would have gone with him to watch his back, while the other hovered over Vanessa’s hospital bed. Maybe if they’d been a full sedoretu, his supporters would have viewed the situation as a stabilising influence, and wouldn’t have tried to poison her in the first place. Maybe the evening wife could have helped him keep it from all falling apart after Wesley died.

Sitting alone in his cell Wilson couldn’t help but imagine the kind of evening wife they might have had. Someone strong, stubborn, who could stand up to him in his worst moods, ruthless enough to stand by his side and be the sister he never had. It was nothing but idle fancy now. He’d had a chance at a happy ending, but it was gone, and he doubted very much that there would be another chance. He hopes Vanessa forgets him, if she does maybe she at least will have a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a sequel, here it is. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, it turns out Fisk is hard to write, hopefully Wesley's chapter will be a bit better.


	2. Of love that shall not yet avail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Wesley's chapter. I'm quite pleased with it.

It ends with a bullet to the heart. His bullet, his gun, his heart. There’s a kind of irony in that, if he cared to look for it, which he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to die here. He had three quarters of a marriage, he had love and a future, he had… nearly everything but not enough. Now he’s losing it all, lifeblood dripping onto the cold concrete floor, his phone ringing out with no-one to answer. It’s Wilson calling, he knows it is, he wishes he could answer, say everything, that he loves him, that he’s dying, that he wants to hear his voice one last time, that he’s sorry for leaving him alone. It’s too late though, the phone rings out.

He’d always been a practical man. Not a romantic by any stretch, but somehow Wilson had drawn him in, anyway. He had that effect on people, charisma, despite his slight social awkwardness. In a lot of ways before he met Wilson, Wesley had just been going through the motions, good at everything but lacking in purpose, in vision. Wilson Fisk had vision, so much vision. He had anger issues, and a stutter, and on occasion he fucked up big time, but he burned with an intensity that Wesley had never seen in another human being, it was hypnotic. He wasn’t sure when he first realised he was in love with his employer, the knowledge crept up on him slowly, until it just became a fact of life, as familiar and unnoticed as his own heartbeat. He did know the first moment he realised that Wilson might return his feelings though.

They’d been working late, very late, both of them more exhausted than they would ever be willing to admit in front of their business associates, and Wesley had realized that Wilson hadn’t hesitated to collapse over his own desk the minute their visitors had left. Hadn’t hesitated to show weakness in front of Wesley, when he’d give himself a caffeine induced heart attack rather than offer that much trust to anyone else. That was when Wesley knew, his feelings weren’t unrequited, and while he might not usually like making a fuss over what he wanted, this was different. Here he had a chance at something special, something he wanted in a way he hadn’t known he could want things. It wasn’t just for him either, he knew it would be good for Wilson, that his employer needed someone to act as a stabilising influence.

So he approached Wilson, asked for what he knew Wilson wanted, and he was so relieved when he found out the cause of Wilson’s hesitation was something so easily fixed. If Wilson wanted a full marriage, Wesley would make sure that happened, and honestly he’d be lying if he said the idea held no appeal for him either. They would find a day marriage to balance out their night, and between the four of them they would have something safe and secure to hold on to.

Wesley had the best of intentions, but he was so busy, organising meetings, and bribing cops, and planning how best to move forward Fisk’s empire. Wilson might be the man with a vision, but Wesley was the one who knew how to make it happen, how to manage and manipulate everything until it was just so. Unfortunately making things happen was time consuming, and it was hard to find time to meet women. It wasn’t really surprising that Wilson found someone before he did, he had a way of drawing people in.

Wesley wanted this to work very badly indeed. He coached Wilson carefully on how to deal with Vanessa, offered wine recommendations, and tried his level best to keep Wilson’s dates business free. It didn’t entirely work out, but in the end Vanessa came back anyway, drawn in by Wilson’s drive and conviction. Wesley liked her. She might have been an honest citizen, at least until she met the two of them, but she was neither weak nor naïve. In her own way she had a will as strong as Wilson’s, although her way of expressing it was far more subtle and polished.

Talking to her was easy, he had never known what it was like to have a moiety sibling, but he knew instinctively that they fit, in the way that moiety sibs should. They talked, and laughed, and bonded over their shared interests in fine wine, and art, that Wilson had never quite managed to share with them. They stayed up late plotting elaborate surprises for Wilson and talked about what they might want in an evening wife. Apparently Vanessa liked blondes.

He loved them both, Wilson and Vanessa. Now he’s dying and Vanessa might never make it out of her hospital bed, and he shudders to think of what might become of Wilson left alone. People forget, why death is the cardinal sin. Death has become an abstract. People have forgotten what a terrible thing it is, how much is taken from a man when his life is cut short. All the things he’ll never do or say, the people he’ll never meet, the people he’ll leave behind. The sheer magnitude of the theft, beyond most people’s comprehension. Now Wesley understands, in a way he never did before, and there’s no time to say sorry, and no way to take it all back. He doesn’t want to die, and maybe there’s a certain amount of justice in that, but Wesley doesn’t want justice. He wants the people he loves, he wants to live, he wants to not be dying alone here in an abandoned warehouse with his murderer.

She surprised him at the end. Karen Page woman of the evening. He’d gone in expecting her to be ordinary, expecting her to back down. He’d talked to her, told her to give up. He’d sat there with a gun on the table and threatened everyone she’d ever cared about, as she listened still defiant despite her tears. He’d expected her to crumble, they all did. Even after she’d picked up the gun he’d been so sure she wouldn’t fire it. It was only after she pulled the trigger that he realised the cruel joke the universe had played on him, because in that moment she was magnificent. Terrified, and terrifying, as she emptied the gun into his chest. Maybe it was just that he was dying, that this was his last chance to complete the square, even if only in his own mind, she was evening and he was morning, and in such situations there is always a certain subtext. But honestly he believed it was more than that, it was the look in her eyes as she pulled the trigger, over and over. Utter determination, a lioness defending her pride, all broken edges and mad defiance. It was her voice, as he asked her…

“Do you really think I would put a loaded gun on the table where you could reach it?” and she replies, with rage born of desperation.

“I don’t know? Do you really think this is the first time I’ve shot someone.” In that moment she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen or would see. Beautiful and terrible, like staring right into the heart of the sun. And then she was gone, and he was gone and all that was left was a phone ringing out in an empty warehouse, calling for a lover who would never come home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and have Vanessa's chapter up within the next couple of days.


	3. For joy that dies, for love that dies (Vanessa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa's chapter. I've decided I actually quite like Vanessa, she's a very interesting character.

She had never given much thought to marriage. She was a career woman through and through, she didn’t have time for fairy tales, and cereal box families. Not that she avoided romance, she had her share of lovers, casual and not. It was just that building a full Sedoretu, evening and morning, husbands and wife, seemed like such a daunting enterprise. She had her share of lovers, women and men of the evening, charming, and beautiful, and deceitful. It was funny, that blind lawyer who’d shown up at her gallery would have been just her type, but now all she could feel was mild annoyance at him wasting her time. Something changed when she met Fisk... no, Wilson. Awkward, sweet, and painfully honest, he was everything she’d never known she wanted. She’d actually been hurt when she realized he’d been lying to her, before she would have just laughed it off as part of the games people played with each other. Wilson was different, real in a way that none of her other lovers had been, twisted fairground mirror reflections of herself that they were. Fisk was nothing like her, and yet in some ways he was just like her. Strong, determined, a man with vision. She wanted him, she could feel the ways they complemented each other, strengthened each other, she thought that maybe this was how it felt to form that perfect square.

She’d been angry when she first realised he’d lied to her, and what he was lying about, but after she’d calmed down, considered the situation, she was shocked by how little she cared. Her boyfriend was a criminal, a gangster, most likely a murderer, but she was going to go back to him anyway, because she didn’t really care. She had never been a criminal, neither had most of her clients, (although there were some she knew better than to ask questions of), they hadn’t been criminals, but they had been rich, very rich. You didn’t get that kind of money without bloodying your hands a little, one way or another. She’d learned not to pass judgement. She liked Fisk, more than anyone else she’d ever met, and honestly the only difference between him and most of the other people she’d slept with over the years was that he was honest about what he was. About the fact that he profited from human misery, and bribed politicians, and silenced those who threatened him, the rest of them lied, and deflected, and buried it all in legal jargon, but fundamentally they were no different.

Vanessa had decided, somewhere in the dead hours of the morning, that if Fisk came clean with her, if he maintained the honesty that had first drawn him to her then she would stand with him, come hell or high water. So she had agreed to another date, she had taken her gun, and she’d confronted him. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted his honesty until he gave it to her, a promise, a vow, and she said nothing out loud but in her heart she knew. She wanted to marry him, even if it was only half a marriage.

Of course it wasn’t nearly that simple. Honestly she should have realized. Wilson had been dropping hints left right and centre about how amazing his friend Wesley was, how they should meet, they had so much in common. It was only after Wilson finally introduced them that the penny dropped. Wilson didn’t want half a marriage he wanted a Sedoretu. She wondered if she should have been irritated, she’d always thought a Sedoretu would be too much of a commitment, but when it came down to it she couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed. Wilson clearly wanted this very much, and Wesley was an absolute darling. She’d never really understood why people felt so attached to their moiety sibs, but now she knew. It was just so relaxing, there was no pressure, no demands, they could just curl up on the sofa together for hours, talking about everything and nothing, sipping fine wine, and planning surprises for their future husband. After the wine had been flowing for a while they would talk about women, about what they wanted in their evening wife, and after they’d switched to spirits they’d discuss past affairs in lurid detail. It wasn’t long before she was as attached to her moiety brother James as she was to Wilson.

She was still unclear on just where everything went wrong. Wilson was as honest as he’d promised with her, but he hadn’t told her all the details of his operations, and in any case those couple of days were all a bit of a blur. All she knew for sure was that she’d been poisoned at the party, that she’d woken up in hospital, and that James was dead, murdered. She’d never been so angry, someone had taken him from her, from Wilson, had broken their Sedoretu before it was even completed. All she could see was red and her breath tasted like iron. She could see Wilson’s grief, and she wished she could grieve with him, but rage had stolen her tears, God she couldn’t even mourn him.

Wilson had tried to leave her after all that, afraid she would share Wesley’s fate, afraid the next time her poisoners would succeed, but she wouldn’t let him. She’d lost her morning husband, she wasn’t going to lose the evening too. She was so, so angry, and the rage only grew as her lover, her husband’s world fell apart around him and there was nothing she could do to help. James could have helped, would have helped, he was always so good at smoothing things over, at fixing problems. But James was cold in the ground, and all she could do for Wilson was stand by him, wait for him, until he wouldn’t let her wait anymore.

Wilson was arrested, he tried to escape, to flee the country with her. She waited for him, she waited until the deadline had passed, and then she left. She left her heart behind in Hell’s Kitchen, but she was too angry to cry, so instead she sat in the helicopter, across from Wilson’s mother, who she had just met for the first time, and she thought of vengeance. Vengeance for Wilson, his vision, his life’s work in ruins, vengeance for James dead in the ground. This city had stolen her marriage, she was going to get what she could of it back, an then she was going to make Hell’s Kitchen bleed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it is finished. I don't think I'll be writing any more in this AU, at least not any time soon. I hope you all enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> I promised a sequel, here it is. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, it turns out Fisk is hard to write, hopefully Wesley's chapter will be a bit better.


End file.
